


you're why i'm sitting here making up songs in my room

by lifeispuke



Category: Over9000 (Band), The Blue Poptarts (Band), Waterparks (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Bisexual Character, Bisexual Male Character, Gay Character, Gay Male Character, M/M, One Shot, Title from a Waterparks Song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29480793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeispuke/pseuds/lifeispuke
Summary: he was three years old the first time his father played him a nirvana record, and he loved every second of it.× title taken from 'peach (lobotomy)' by waterparks
Relationships: Awsten Knight/Geoff Wigington
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	you're why i'm sitting here making up songs in my room

**Author's Note:**

> i know that some of the descriptions of the characters might seem a little,, weird, but i was trying to write it in a way that nobody's names were said

He was born on the second day of July, exactly when the clock struck thirty minutes after four o'clock in the afternoon. His mother, exhausted, fell asleep straight away. His father, on the other hand, held the crying baby, smiling. He had always wanted to be a dad, and this was his son, his baby boy. He hoped he wouldn't mess it up.

He was three years old the first time his father played him a Nirvana record, and he loved every second of it. Even his toddler self knew good music when he heard it. He jumped around, dancing in the way that little kids dance, as his father watched, happily, from his place on the couch. 

He was five years old when he first started school. He desperately wanted to make friends, and he hoped that some of the children might share his love of music at such an early age. But, as it turned out, they only cared about toys and watching television. He was made fun of by the other children, and the first day, it was due to his pink shirt. They told him that it was a girl color, and that if boys wore it, they were gay. He had heard that word in his parents' conversations, but he never really understood what it meant. That night, at the dinner table, he spoke to them about it. His mother replied calmly, saying that it wasn't the best time to speak about it, and that she would tell him later, as his father twitched angrily, closing his eyes and breathing heavily.

He was six years old when his little sister was born. He had been allowed to stay up late that night, while he waited with his grandmother in the hospital waiting room, for both of his parents were in the operating room. After several completed coloring pages, his father finally came out, and informed him that he could see his sister. He had to sit down, and hold her head up with his elbow, his arms cradling the rest of her body. He looked at her with the same love and admiration his father had looked at him with.

He was eight when his father gave him his first guitar. He had been begging for months now, and when his father came home from work that day, in his hands was a shiny, acoustic guitar. He practiced every day, sometimes for hours on end if his parents hadn't realized. He played Nirvana tapes and records, trying to learn the songs, all in the hopes to someday be good enough to play in a band.

He was nine when his mother was diagnosed with cancer. His parents had gone into a different room to talk, and he had cried at the news. His sister, who was now old enough to walk on her own, was still too young to fully understand what was going on. All she saw was that her big brother was upset, so she hugged him tightly, offered him her blankie, and watched cartoons with him.

He was eleven when his mother passed away. It had been a rough year for him, and this had certainly made it so much worse. It was his first year of junior high, he was getting bullied quite severely, and still didn't have any friends, no different from his first day of kindergarten. He was in math class when he was told to go to the front office, and his uncle, standing with a solemn, tearful look on his face, was all the explanation he needed before he broke down in tears.

He was twelve years old when his father sold their house in San Francisco and moved him and his sister to the suburbs of Houston, Texas. He claimed that a change of scenery and a fresh start would be nice, plus his sister was about to start school, and it was possible he might have better luck making friends in a place where no one knew who he was. But he knew it was because his father couldn't stand it any longer to keep living in the same house that him and his mother had bought together, right after they got married. It was there that he met a boy with bright blue hair and two different color eyes, who shared his love of music and sense of humor. The two soon became inseparable.

He was fourteen when a few other people joined their small friend group. There was a boy with bushy brown hair, which was always tucked in a beanie; a boy with black hair, dyed red in some spots, who loved photography more than he loved anything else; and a girl with long blonde hair and a distinctive quirky personality. He hadn't minded the changes of the dynamics in the group. In fact, he was grateful. He would've given anything for more friends. But him and the heterochromic boy were still the closest of the group, and it didn't seem like anything would change that. It was that same year that the blue-haired boy began to be more open with him. He opened up to him about how he thought men and women were of equal attraction, but he was terrified of how his family would respond to something like that. Remembering the pink shirt on his first day of kindergarten and how his father had responded, he was quick to sympathize.

He was fifteen years old when him, the boy with different colored eyes, and the boy with bushy brown hair decided to start a band. He would play guitar, the blue-haired boy would sing, and the bushy-haired boy would play drums. The photographer and the blonde girl came to their practices often, whether it was to listen, or just hang out. Two girls asked him out that year, and he declined both of them. He would rather be hanging out with the boy whom he regularly called a blueberry. This is when he realized something, something that he had been pushing down, hiding for the past three years. He had a crush on a boy.

He was sixteen when he was finally was able to admit to himself that he was gay. The first people he told were his friends, and, not surprisingly, they had all smiled and were extremely supportive. With the help of his friends, he was able to come out to his sister, now in fifth grade, who had hugged him and promised to not tell anyone. This year, on an afternoon in the middle of autumn, he had his perfect, movie-worthy moment. He had written a song, and it was, more or less, cheesy and romantic, just like the rom-coms his mother used to watch. The boy with the blue hair had found it, purely by accident, and teasingly asked who it was about. After several shy glances and not many words exchanged, they kissed. A few days later, they were officially boyfriends.

He was seventeen years old when he graduated high school. He had gone to prom with his boyfriend, as he had convinced his dad they were just going as friends. It was also when he got into his first fight with his dad. They were yelling for hours straight, to the point where his sister had hidden in her room with her hands clamped over her ears. It ended with a string of curses, a shout of, "You know what, asshole? _I'm_ gay!" and a scream resembling something along the lines of, "Get the fuck out of my house!" He found refuge at the home of the boy with red and black hair, whose parents were welcoming and disgusted at the way some parents treat their children.

He was eighteen when him and his boyfriend moved in together, into an apartment in downtown Houston. He had gotten a job as a cashier, working the night shift, to help pay for it, along with the help of his boyfriend's parents, who turned out to be quite accepting. He had gotten a job working as a secretary three days a week for minimum wage. It wasn't perfect, but they were together, and that's what mattered the most to them.

He was twenty-one when their band hit it big, scoring a number one on the charts, over a million streams in one day, and selling almost a quarter of a million CDs. Interviews were given, photos were taken (by, of course, the boy with the red and black hair), and tour dates were confirmed. They even appeared on covers of magazines. They were going to be the next big thing.

He was twenty-three when he got married to the boy with the blue hair. It was a last minute decision, rushing out before a show, their three close friends with them. They were touring, currently in Denver, Colorado, when the five of them sneaked out to find a courthouse, hurrying back to play a show, smiling and laughing the entire time. It was the best decision either of them had ever made.


End file.
